


Obsessions

by Augustchameleon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, BAMF Ginny Weasley, F/M, Family, Female Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, ginny survivor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustchameleon/pseuds/Augustchameleon
Summary: Ginny Weasley, a sophomore in college with (mostly) under control OCD calls her brother's best friend to pick her up after blacking out at a frat party. Juggling her need for answers and closure with a family who needs her strength, Ginny begins the process of letting go and taking back the parts of her she feels she's lost.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. Red Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning- This chapter references Sexual Assault, Alcohol, and Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny Weasley finds herself getting into the car of her brother's best friend. She's drunk, anxious, and can't exactly remember the events preceding the car ride. What had just happened and why was she so dizzy? Most importantly, why had she called him?

"I'm not a baby!" Ginny whined.

"I know you're not a baby," Harry picked Ginny up and placed her gently in the passenger seat of his beat up Toyota.

"I'm not a baby!" She repeated "You're barely a year older than me. I'm not a baby. You're younger than Ron."

"Shh shh. No one's saying you're a baby," Harry continued, "l'm not saying you're a baby. Ron isn't saying you're a baby. No one's saying you're a baby. How much did you drink?"

She stared at him blankly and shrugged. Harry looked exasperated, but mildly amused. "Okay," he said. "Let's get you back home."

Ginny shook her head fiercely. Home had Ron and Mum. Home had Dad. Home had Percy. "Drinking's a sin," She finally managed. "I can't go home. Take me back to school."

"Campus is closed. It's break. How much did you drink?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"I don't know. I told mum I was staying the night a Lavender's and I don't want to be there anymore…" Ginny trailed off "and so now I need to leave and I called you because I have nowhere to go." tears had started to well up in her eyes "can I stay with you?"

Harry glanced over at her and frowned. "Please don't cry, it makes me feel weird. Why don't I take you to Ron's apartment? He'll be there soon, he wasn't planning on staying the night at the house."

She just shook her head. She didn't want to face Ron, not like this. She wasn't entirely thrilled about facing his best friend like this, but there were choices that had to be made and he was the lesser of two evils. Ginny felt the hot tears on her cheek as Harry pulled into a vacant McDonald's. "Ginny, let me take you to Ron's."

"I can't face him." she managed.

"Ginevra Weasley do you know how many times your brother has gotten drunk? Are you aware? Because I can tell you he doesn't seem to agree with your parents or Percy on the 'drinking's a sin' thing" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's not that. I don't want to talk about it." Ginny whispered.

Harry tensed up, he had known something was up when she'd called, but had tried to force it out of his mind. That voicemail she had sent in the bathroom gave her away. That voicemail made it abundantly clear that something was very wrong. He looked at her, seemingly about to ask, then stopped. "What are you going to sleep in?" he asked.

"This"

"That?" he said, unable to mask the judgement in his voice. Ginny looked at him ferociously.

"Don't you dare say anything. It was a party okay. Don't you say anything. It's a sexy red dress. That's what you wear. I'm not a slut. Don't slut shame me" she shouted.

"Hey, hey it's fine I didn't say anything. It just doesn't look comfortable. We'll figure something out. Chill. Chill. Okay? I'll take you back. But I'm gonna text Ron, alright? He'll freak if he finds out you stayed the night with me from someone else," he rambled.

"I'm not a damn baby!" her voice cracked as she descended again into softly crying.

"Okay, sorry, I won't then. We'll figure something out" he said sheepishly.

The rest of the ride to Harry's apartment was filled with uncomfortable silence. What was she supposed to say? How was she even supposed to begin to know what to say. While she should have been crafting a decent enough excuse for the state of she was in, all she could think about was the fact that her bra strap was not in the right place, but she couldn't move it because she was in the car with her brother's best friend and that infuriated her. Ginny could feel the back of her bra too. She knew that it hadn't been hooked on right. She felt the wire on her back and in her haste getting dressed in the bathroom she fucked up putting on her bra. It was such a simple task. There are for little hooks and she missed latching two of them. How could she have been so careless?

"We're here" he said.

"And if I was careless about that," she thought to herself, "what else have I been careless about?" Was her underwear even on properly? She hoped so. "Underwear's pretty hard to screw up," she reminded herself. Did she even wear underwear? She hoped that she hadn't left it at the party. But the bra, that was a now problem because Harry would know. And if Harry knew that he would know...

"Ginny, we're here."

No he couldn't know that. There's no indication.

Harry touched her shoulder and Ginny flinched. He flinched too, not expecting the reaction. He managed a "we're here" and got out of the car. Ginny got out quickly and shut the door. One. Two. Three times. Four times? She never did four. Five. Six.

He waited patiently. "I thought your number was three." He said with a smile. She shot him a pointed glance as they walked inside.

He closed the door three times in an act of solidarity she guessed, but it didn't satisfy her today. How foolish he was to think he could outsmart this. Ginny stared at him and shut the door a fourth time. Again, he looked concerned.

Ginny really hated it when men give that concerned look. As a matter of fact, she hated it when anyone gave her that concerned look. The "I don't understand what goes on in your head but I'm trying" look. That misplaced sympathy look. But she decided, in the moment, she especially hated it when men gave her that look. She didn't have time for this, she was dizzy. As they walked up the stairs to his apartment, Harry tried to make conversation.

"Why three?" He asked

"Holy trinity," Ginny replied, curtly

"What happened," He asked.

Ginny didn't reply to that one.

"Ginny, what happened? Don't act like something didn't happen."

"It's not always three. It just is a majority of the time. There's no rhyme or reason to it, I say it's holy trinity as a joke but honestly who knows, it's my reasoning but the reasoning changes, you can't outsmart it"

"Ginny"

Suddenly, her stomach lurched. At first she had thought that she was going to throw up, but she realized that her senses were dulling. Spots appeared in her eyes and she wanted to say something but.

Bang.

* * *

Ginny thought she was going to pass out, she really did. She laid there for a minute.

"Ginny! Ginny" Harry shouted at her.

"I'm fine." she croaked, sobering up only slightly. Harry helped her up onto a spot on his sofa and inspected the side of her head that hit the table on the way down. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at her.

"Ginny? Look at me. Are you dizzy? Are you nauseous?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, very, but I'm not concussed, Harry, I'm drunk" she said defiantly.

"I'm aware, but you also face-planted into my table. That could give you a nasty concussion. Do you still feel faint? How much did you drink?" Harry continued, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She stared at him, his green eyes bright next to the glow of the table lamp, his messy hair covering the scar on his forehead. You know Harry wasn't a bad looking guy, considering. Maybe it was the beer or whatever else was in the beer, but not bad. "Not bad at all," Ginny thought to herself.

"Ginny are you even listening to me?" he asked.

Startled, she looked back at him.

"Ginny…" he repeated.

She couldn't muster up a response anymore. she'd been beaten. There was something wrong and she wasn't discussing it. There was something wrong and he absolutely knew it.

"Ginny, I'm grabbing water okay?"

She nodded and watched him leave towards the kitchen. She would have only seconds to think up a decent enough excuse for the state she was in before he came back. Despite her dizziness she was surprisingly lucid. Lucid enough to overthink at least.

Before she could think of one, Harry was back. "This is a mistake," she thought. She wasn't thinking when she called. She should have called Ron. She considered that it wasn't too late. "I did call Ron," she thought. "Did I lose my phone? How did I call Harry if I lost my phone?" she couldn't remember anymore, but she could barely remember her name at the moment. Where was Ron? Ron was with Mum and Dad and she was supposed to be at Lavender's and then…

Ginny started hyperventilating. She was trying to reach her zipper to get her dress off. It felt like it was choking her, like she couldn't breathe.

"Get it off" she cried out, "I can't breath. It's choking me. I can't unzip it," she said gasping for air.

Harry was concerned obviously but somehow calm. "Ginny look at me. Can you breathe for me? What does it feel like?"

She could tell he was a great EMT.

"My dress," she whined back. "I'm choking!" She sputtered tears coming down her eyes. She finally got ahold of the zipper and pulled it down just enough so it wasn't around her neck. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. Harry, for all his training, did not know what to make of this. He stared searchingly trying to figure out what was wrong or what she'd taken.

"Ginny you have to tell me what happened or I'm going to call 911," he finally said.

She was still trying to catch her breath. "I-"

The words didn't fit right in her mouth. She couldn't say anything.

"What?"

"I don't know," the tears were coming back. They burned against her cheek leaving salty trails down her face. "I was so drunk. I don't know how it happened. I was in this bedroom. His arm was around my neck I couldn't move."

Harry tensed up. "Who?"

"I don't know!"

Harry then took a breath and looked at her. He was formulating a response. Ginny was still hyperventilating. She couldn't think of the possibilities of what was going to happen next. She couldn't even think of a "next." There was just intense dread, it bubbled inside of her. She felt stomach acid creeping up her esophagus and into her mouth. She swallowed twice hard and more tears streamed down her cheeks as her throat burned.

"Ginny did he-" Harry didn't finish.

Ginny shrugged, still fighting off the urge to throw up. It felt like something was burning through her insides. She imagined a little drill working away at the lining of her stomach. It was a weird mental image and not a particularly pleasant one, but she was used to it. Her imagination had always had a way of running too wild, painting equally vivid and disturbing paintings in her mind. People don't realize that about OCD. They tend to focus on the compulsions, which, in Ginny's opinion, were the least annoying part. It's the obsessions that drove her nuts, her overactive imagination refusing to let her rest, let her forget about anything. Selective photographic memory, except half of the photos were her mind's own creation. The image of the drill shifted to that of a man, faceless.

She wanted the drill back.

Harry was saying something that Ginny couldn't make out. She briefly wondered what she looked like to him at this moment, staring so intently into space, breathing so rapidly that her nostrils flared with each inhale. She looked crazy. "Maybe I am crazy," she thought.

"I'm okay… I'm okay, I promise," She said breathlessly. "Sorry.."

"You don't need to apologize, Ginny I just think we should get you to the hospital. Or the police station. Do you know what happened?"

Ginny started to respond with an emphatic discussion about how she wanted to do neither of those things when she felt her peripheral vision blur again. The warm lighting of his living room was dimming. She trailed off and laid her face down against the cool hardwood floor, waiting for the room to stop spinning. It felt nice against her burning, flushed face and had the unexpected side effect of actually calming her down a little.

"What are you doing?"

"The room was spinning."

He sighed, picked her up gently and laid her on the couch. Ginny didn't have the energy to explain that she actually preferred the floor. He moved a lamp closer to her face and looked at her eyes.

"Your pupils are very very dilated. Did you take something?" He waited for her response. When she didn't have one, he continued, "I'm going to touch your neck if that's okay, just to check your pulse." He did so and looked down at his phone which he had set on a timer app. He frowned.

"Ginny, I think you actually need to go to a hospital. I'm in a little over my head here. I'm not a doctor. Your pupils are mad dilated, your pulse is through the roof. You either took something or..." he trailed off and looked at her intensely. "Whatever happened. I'm not a doctor. I don't have any equipment. You could stop breathing, Ginny."

This time he waited for a response. She nodded.

"And we should call Ron."

Ginny nodded again but muttered, "he didn't answer earlier."

"But you did call him?"

"I think so.. Or I didn't, I don't remember," Ginny racked her brain trying to remember exactly what she had done in the events proceeding the incident. Where the hell was her phone?

"Let's call again then, okay? Do you want me to?"

"Yeah."

Harry tried Ron again with no answer. Harry started to text something to Ron when Ginny shook her head vigorously. "Don't tell him!" she pleaded.

"I won't Ginny. That's your choice. I'm just letting him know you have alcohol poisoning."

"Do I have alcohol poisoning?" she mused.

"I don't think this is just from alcohol, but we'll find out. Think you can walk to the car?"

Ginny stood up feeling the blood rush to her ears and nose again. Her face felt hot and then suddenly very cold as she swayed and fell back into the couch.

"That's a no then. I can pick you up or call an ambulance," Harry was no longer trying to hide the concern in his voice.

"No ambulance… expensive"

"Okay," Harry said picking Ginny up and bringing her to the car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resources
> 
> US:
> 
> National Confidential Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)
> 
> Check out RAINN for a master list of resources
> 
> UK:
> 
> Hotline: 0808 802 9999
> 
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 0808 2000 247
> 
> Check out UKSaysNoMore for master list of resources


	2. Chapter 2- St. Mungo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny winds up in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, hope you're enjoying so far! In case you haven't noticed this deals with some pretty heavy content matter and this chapter is no different. The events described are as accurate as I could approximate given how different protocols are from place to place. I'm going to start putting notes with assault resources at the end of each chapter

Harry picked Ginny up and took her into the car again, shutting the door for her. When they got to the ER, Harry helped her in and she was almost immediately put onto a stretcher. "I must look pretty bad," she thought to herself. She felt like a lab rat underneath hot white lights as Harry tried to explain the situation. Why were hospital lights so artificially bright?

"She called me, I'm her brother's friend. I think she was drugged. Pupils dilated, labored breathing. She says she doesn't remember what happened. She also fell when she got to my apartment and hit her head against my table. I don't know if she got a concussion. It's hard to tell because of everything else"

A nurse nodded and thanked Harry, letting him know he could wait in the waiting room.

The nurse came to her stretcher and began rolling her into a room. As she helped Ginny onto a hospital bed she said, "Hi Ginny, I'm Jackie. Do you understand where you are?"

Ginny nodded as she looked into the nurse's heavily made up eyes. Her eyeliner was perfect. This was something Ginny had noticed before, women nurses and doctors had the absolute best eye makeup. Maybe it had to do with the lighting or the fact that most of their face had to be covered by a mask when she'd visit with a flu or strep. Either way, the nurse's blue eyes sparkled as she said something Ginny wasn't paying attention to.

"Ginny?"

"Sorry, I spaced out."

"That's fine, I was just asking for your arm. I'm going to put you on an IV okay?"

"Okay."

Jackie hooked Ginny up to an IV and took her vitals. She put a monitor on her finger for her heart rate and checked her blood pressure. She then shined a light in her eyes which made her head scream. She winced at the bright light.

"Sorry, your head hurt?"

Ginny nodded.

"Took a nasty fall earlier didn't you?"

She nodded again.

"How did you fall? Did anyone push you?"

Ginny looked at her, puzzled. Did they think Harry had done this? "No... no... I felt faint and I fell against a coffee table."

"Okay, you should keep an eye on that for the next few days. That could give you a nasty concussion," Jackie was writing notes on her clipboard.

She started to leave the room and called out. "We'll have some more questions in a moment, but I'm going to go ahead and get the doctor, okay?"

Ginny didn't have the energy to respond. This was becoming tiresome. She desperately wanted to sleep.

She looked around the hospital room with tired, bleary eyes. Everything had a halo around it from the bright light and her burgeoning migraine. She felt nauseous and dizzy. Ginny barely noticed when the doctor came in, a tall, dark-skinned and skinny woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her eye makeup was also perfect, with muted orange eyeshadow highlighting flecks of gold in her mostly black irises.

The doctor looked at the chart and said, "Hello Miss Weasley, how are you feeling?"

Ginny looked at her with tired eyes, barely lifting her head, "I've been better," she mumbled.

"I see," the woman frowned, "I'm Doctor Mallard," she said coming over to check the vitals on the cart that Ginny was hooked up to.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh, she might have controlled herself better if she'd been sober.

She gave a weary smile, "yes?"

"Quack.." she said with a weak smile.

She sighed, "Haven't heard that one before. I'm glad you feel you can joke though, it's a good sign."

"I'm sure you're not a quack," Ginny said hoarsely.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, now Ginny. I hate to change the subject to less savory matters but I need to ask you some questions."

She nodded.

"Do you know if you took anything tonight, any drugs?" Dr. Mallard asked.

"No."

"Is it possible you were slipped something? Were you drinking tonight?"

She nodded again.

"In that case, I'll have someone come in and get a blood sample in a moment if that's okay with you, now Ginny, I need to ask. Were you sexually assaulted."

"I can't remember," she said as she felt the stomach acid creep up her throat yet again.

"Okay," Dr. Mallard frowned, "in that case, I can order a kit. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes," Ginny said as tears started to well up her eyes.

The next hour passed in a daze. Doctors and nurses huddled over her collecting possible evidence. Someone drew blood, but she barely noticed. Ginny fell in and out of consciousness for most of this, answering questions only when she absolutely had to. They took off the red dress and placed it in a sealed ziplock bag, Ginny was left with a hospital gown. Eventually, everyone left except for Dr. Mallard who asked her the one question she wasn't ready to answer.

"Would you like for us to bring in an officer to file a police report?"

She shook her head.

"No?"

She thought about it again, "well, I want to know if I've actually been raped first…" she trailed off

"Miss Weasley, I can't tell you what decision to make, but you were slipped something and someone had sex with you. You couldn't have consented," Dr. Mallard said with a frown.

"Can I think about it? Is there a deadline?" Ginny managed.

"Of course you can. There's no deadline, but the sooner the better. We do need to report a probable crime," Dr. Mallard explained, "this can omit your name."

"You can keep the name in. I just need time," she said firmly, "I'm Ginny Weasley and I-" her voice quivered, "I'm a rape victim," she almost whispered. Saying it to herself made it real. It made what happened not just something that happened but something that had happened to her. She stared at the white hospital linens and softly asked, "when can I go home? I just want to sleep."

Dr. Mallard seemed surprised at this question. She looked at Ginny's cart again, "You've been here an hour and a half, your vitals are getting better… I would say we need to monitor for another 30 minutes or so. Afterwards, if you're stable, we can discharge. Did you want the man who came with you to come in?"

She nodded, starting to think that this was the only gesture she was capable of at the moment.

* * *

Harry looked absolutely exhausted, but Ginny thought she probably looked worse. The first thing he managed as soon as he saw her was "Oh Ginny."

"Please don't," she said numbly.

"Okay. I won't. Do you know when they'll discharge you? It's 2:26 right now. No word from Ron yet but he's probably fast asleep."

"30 minutes," she croaked.

Harry sat in a chair by the bed and gestured towards the vitals display Ginny was hooked up to, "can I?"

She shrugged and Harry looked at her stats.

"Pulse steady, blood pressure's still pretty low but manageable, oxygen's fine," he tried to put on a smile, "By god, I think you'll live," he said as he gingerly took her hand. "This okay?"

Ginny grunted an affirmative. He held her hand and rubbed his thumb up and down her palm. It soothed her for the time being as she tried to wait out the 30 minutes. She knew there was no hope of her falling asleep in a hospital bed. There were too many things to fixate on, her pulse as it steadily rose the longer she looked at it, the breathing from a man who was detoxing down the hall, the needle stuck into her wrist that made her skin crawl every time she looked at it, but she would take all of it not to think about what had happened and what it all meant.

Would she have to tell anyone?

Dr. Mallard finally returned with her discharge papers and removed the IV and heart monitor. She explained that all Ginny had to do was let the police know where she had come if she chose to file a report. Dr. Mallard didn't meet Ginny's eyes when she mentioned keeping the red dress as it was "evidence."

Ginny retained almost none of this information. She was surprised when she zoned back in to see Dr. Mallard offering her a sports bra and some underwear, "it's not much but the nurses here have a drive every month so you don't have to leave in just the scrubs," she frowned, "let me know if these don't fit, they seem like they're the same size," she looked at Ginny searchingly, and Ginny could tell that she wanted to say more.

"Harry," she said hoarsely, "can you wait outside again?"

He nodded and walked out.

* * *

"You'll likely wake up with what will feel like the worst hangover of your life. Just try to sleep as much as possible and drink fluids. You should take a pregnancy test in a week or so," Dr. Mallard said in a soft voice. Ginny could tell she had the hardest time with this, "depending on the results, you can come in or go to a Primary Care Provider to talk about your options."

Ginny felt like she was going to be sick again. She hadn't even considered that possibility. She didn't let her fear show and simply nodded her head and asked if she could have some privacy while she changed.

Dr. Mallard nodded and stepped out and left the discharge papers on the bed to give to the front desk on the way out.

"Thank you," Ginny managed as she walked out.

Ginny slipped on the underwear and bra and felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She was paralyzed. The bright lights seemed to be emitting a deafening high pitched whirr. She closed her eyes so tightly it hurt and tensed her whole body. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten" she counted. As soon as she reached ten, she released the tension in her body. It worked well enough to keep away the panic, but she was nowhere near relaxed. She shakily got up and walked to the door.

"Do you want a wheel chair?" Harry offered, she shook her head and he helped her to the front desk. As she checked out, the man working the front desk gave her back the last 4 slips of paper on the clipboard. "Those are for you, miss." Without looking, she grabbed them and thanked the man.

She _never_ wanted to visit a hospital _ever_ again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resources
> 
> US:
> 
> National Confidential Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)
> 
> Check out RAINN for a master list of resources
> 
> UK:
> 
> Hotline: 0808 802 9999
> 
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 0808 2000 247
> 
> Check out UKSaysNoMore for master list of resources


	3. Rubbed Raw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a feeling becomes so much that you can barely even feel it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is usual resources are down below and I look forward to posting Chapter 4, where we get to see more of the Weasleys.

Ginny was in a daze on the car ride back. Harry didn't know what to say and stayed silent. The silence was unnoticed by Ginny whose mind had returned to other things, like her wrist, which felt weird from where the IV drip had been. It felt wrong as if the needle were somehow still in there. She knew this was a trick of her mind and tried her best to not ignore it but her best wasn't getting her very far.

"Ginny stop that, you're going to make yourself bleed" he whispered sharply.

She looked at him and realized she had been scratching furiously at where the needle had been. She stopped scratching only to begin rubbing in the same place.

"I guess that's better." He shrugged and pulled into the parking lot of his apartment. He helped Ginny out and closed the door. She grabbed the door again and shut it. He waited. "What a trooper," she thought, "I would have been annoyed if I were him"

They got into the house and he closed the door waiting for Ginny to close it again, but she didn't, her attention was on her wrist again, which she was pawing at. She wanted to stop but I couldn't. It felt so weird and itchy.

"Ginny please, you're bleeding." He pleaded, grabbing her hand. She winced at the sudden movement.

"Sorry," he muttered, "I'll get a plaster. Do you think a plaster would help?"

Ginny shrugged and he took off to find a bandaid for my wrist. It hardly bleeding at all, just red and raw like a bug bite scratched too hard. She guessed he thought not looking at it would make it feel less weird. When he left, she closed the door several more times. She wasn't usually like this. She had gotten pretty good at limiting the compulsions, but they had come back with a vengeance. She wasn't sure if it was the drugs, the alcohol, or the trauma, but it was going to be a long night.

Harry came back with a small bandaid and put it on her wrist where the needle had been. "There, hopefully that helps. Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Ginny looked down at the hospital gown she was in and back at Harry expectantly. Harry assumed that the fact she could still be sassy was a good thing.

"Oh, right. I forgot about that." Harry trailed off, "some clothes then?"

"It might be helpful, yeah," Ginny said numbly.

Harry nodded and ran into his room, when he came back he had brought an old rugby shirt and some shorts that would likely be rather big on her.

"Right, then you know where the room is. You can get dressed and sleep, okay?"

Ginny bit her lip. To show more vulnerability than she already had would hurt her pride, but she didn't want to be alone. She looked at Harry who seemed smaller than usual without the pretense of his popularity and rugby stardom to make him larger than life. "He's in over his head," she thought as she allowed herself to sink into a brief self pitying moment, "and it's all my fault."

"Are you okay?" he repeated.

Ginny was not the crying type, an anxious, jittery, compulsive type, maybe, but not the type to cry in front of anyone. Being the youngest of seven and the only girl whipped that habit out rather quickly and yet she felt hot tears well up in her eyes for the second time the night.

Harry felt something crack inside of him as he saw her face. He'd known Ginny since they were kids and he'd never seen her this upset. His emotions vacillated between deep sadness to intense anger at the person who had done this to her. Harry tried to think of what she needed, knowing from experience that pity more often than not makes one feel worse.

"Ginny, hey, let's just watch something until you're ready to sleep and… if you want to talk we can talk, sound good?"

Ginny wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, "that sounds good."

"A cartoon maybe?" Darren offered.

"Yeah that works." Ginny replied,

Harry nodded and looked at the hospital gown she was still wearing, "do you want to go to the bathroom to change or I could turn around,"

"I really don't care, Harry," she admitted, "I have already been so beyond mortified, traumatized, and anxious tonight that nothing matters at this point." Ginny pulled the shorts on underneath the gown, "you can turn around," she finally arrived at. Harry did so and she switched the gown for the shirt.

"All good," she said.

Harry turned around to see Ginny in his clothes which were large and loose. In the light, he noticed the beginnings of bruises around her neck. The sight made him clench his teeth, but he relaxed as much as possible. He sat down and made room for Ginny on the couch.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning she was in Harry's bed. As the room came into focus, Ginny saw Harry standing in the doorway with a Gatorade.

"Ron is on his way," he said with uncertainty.

Ginny groaned and pulled the sheets to her nose. Sitting up felt like an insurmountable task, getting up and riding in a car was impossible.

Harry stayed in the doorway, "do you need help?"

She shook her head. As she sat up, however, she cursed her stubbornness. She felt the world soften around her again and fell back down into bed.

"Ginny!" Harry rushed in, assuming she had fainted.

"I'm fine," she croaked, "I will just throw up if I sit up. Tell Ron to wait."

"He's not going to, he wants to see his baby sister."

"What did you tell him," she darkened.

"That someone slipped something in your drink. That's all," he explained slowly as if she may not understand him if he spoke any faster.

"I'll be back in five. Do you need painkillers?" he asked.

She nodded and pulled the sheets over her nose again. As soon as Harry left, Ginny felt the nausea come again in a huge wave. She looked to the side of the bed to see a trash can, the same one from the night before, "smart boy," she thought.

Harry heard the retching in the other room "Ginny! Oh my god" Harry said coming to her side and rubbing her back as she threw up what was hopefully the last of whatever was in her system.

When she finally had stopped dry heaving, Harry went to get paper towels to wipe her face. When he came back she hadn't moved. Ginny was just shivering, hunched over the side of the bed. "Here," he said, wiping her face and easing her back into the bed. "I'll tell Ron you're not in a state to be moved. He can stay here with you as long as you need okay?"

She nodded and closed her eyes.

"Do you want me to go?" He asked softly.

She shook her head, wearily. Harry nodded and got up to grab a book from his shelf and sat at his desk. "I'll be right here then. On the chair. You just sleep"

She drifted to sleep for an indeterminate amount of time before she heard Ron's voice.

"How long's she been sleeping?"

"She's been on and off. We got back from the hospital around 3:30 and she passed out."

"Ginny?" Ron asked.

She fluttered her eyes open. "Ron?" she croaked.

Ron walked over to her and stroked my hair. "Ginny, what happened?"

She didn't answer

"Ginny please?" he pressed on.

She looked over at Harry to gesture for him to leave. He got the message and walked out.

She stared at Ron for what felt like ages. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What was she supposed to say?

"I- At the party. I don't remember." she managed.

"Yeah Harry said you were slipped something. You don't remember anything?" He asked.

Ginny thought about this. Ron, who she loved deeply was not the best at these situations. What had his girlfriend said? "The emotional range of a teaspoon?" Ginny wasn't entirely certain she wanted anyone to know about this, it was bad enough Harry did. He wouldn't tell Ron if she asked him not to. She would tell him eventually… maybe.

"No." she managed, "just calling Harry"

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked

"You were with mom and dad" she said lazily

"Why didn't you call one of your friends?" he continued.

"They were all at the party… and too drunk to drive."

"Okay okay, I'll stop with the 21 questions.. I'm just shocked you called Harry."

"So am I. I'm sure there was a reason, I can't remember though" she muttered

"Did you try Hermione?" Ron asked

"I thought we were done with the questions, Ron" she croaked.

"We are, sorry. One more though, Where are your clothes? Harry didn't undress you, did-" he paused

Here came lie number 2, Ginny was surprised that it came so easily despite her exhaustion, "No, it's in the wash. I threw up. I changed myself"

"Okay," he sighed with relief. "Do you want to head to my place so you can keep sleeping it off? I can carry you."

She shrugged and Ron started to pick me up. She decided quickly that she didn't like how it felt to be carried and nudged for him to put her down.

"You sure you can walk?" he asked.

"Yeah," she responded.

Ron let her down and she padded down the stairs like a wounded animal, feeling every creak vibrate through her skull. The doctor had been right. This was the worst hangover she had ever had. When she got down the stairs, Harry grabbed her coat and stuffed the discharge papers into one of the large pockets and handed it to Ron. Ginny looked back with a thankful glance and Harry nodded wordlessly as he opened the door. He looked as if he wanted to say something but could figure out what.

"Thanks a ton, Harry, really. I'll call you later." Ron said.

"Yeah of course, your family has done so much for me over the years," he choked up, it dawning on him the truth of that statement.

Ron and Ginny walked off, leaving a speechless Harry to process the events of the previous night. When they got to the car, Ron opened and closed the door for Ginny. He then climbed into the drivers seat and turned on the engine.

"Lock the doors," Ginny demanded.

"Ginny they lock automatically."

She just stared until he pushed the lock button again.

"You know the more you give into the compulsion the more you rely on it." he lectured.

"I can't help that I got the crazy gene."

"You're not crazy. Don't say that about yourself."

"Fine."

They rode back in silence. She wasn't particularly mad, just nauseous and in a bad way.

Ron opened the door for her. Ginny stumbled out and muttered a "thank you." He closed it behind her and helped her up the stairs to he and George's apartment. When they got in, he ushered her into his bed. Ginny didn't look him in the eyes the entire time. 'This was better than my parents knowing,' she kept repeating to herself. It wasn't much better, though. She hated pity in all forms. It didn't matter the intentions, which were, more often than not, good. She wanted to make her body a cloister and hole up inside for a while. Moving seemed like a chore. Talking seemed like a chore. All Ginny wanted was a break from the past 12 hours of being pitied. She finally got the nerve to look at her, no doubt, concerned older brother in the eye.

"Ginny- how are you doing?"

He was bewildered. Ginny felt she was right to withhold information from Ron, who needed to be coddled into a situation as complex as this.

"Fine," she responded with a heavy sigh. How could she say she wanted to be alone. Was that something she could just ask for? She was unsure of the protocols of this. Was there a right way to respond to this situation? Ginny cursed herself for her near constant inner dialogue that made it impossible for her to just _be._ She would realize later that her over-analysis could be applauded as processing, but Ginny didn't want to process. She wanted, desperately wanted, to stop processing.

Sometimes Ginny felt like a machine. Humans aren't made to be computers which is precisely why computers exist. They fulfill a need. There is way too much information for us all to take in at once, let alone derive meaning out of it. We collectively don blinders most of the time, hyper focused on ourselves and a select few people and things we deem important. Could you imagine being aware of everything all the time? Ginny could. She walked the line. She still had blinders, but she noticed more, and sometimes she focused too hard on the wrong things, taking in and processing so much of this unnecessary information that she couldn't manage to do much of anything else.

"Ginny, what are you looking at?"

Ginny snapped herself out of it. Realizing she had been staring at the mirror behind Ron, distracted by her own reflection again. It wasn't a vanity thing. It never was. People always misread this. She just often got distracted by the prospect of having an appearance at all.

"Nothing. Just got distracted."

Ron nodded. He knew her well enough to know when she was a lost cause. When he needed to let her be alone for a while to reset. Ginny had shut down.

"I'll be in the living room, okay? Just let me know if you need anything."

As he left, Ginny laid back down, resenting the stranger that put her in this situation. "As if I didn't have enough shit to deal with already," she thought to herself. She stared at the ceiling for what felt like a few minutes, but actually amounted to an hour before getting up to take a shower. Pink water crept from her arms and legs from cuts and scratches she hadn't noticed before. She scrubbed my skin so vigorously it hurt. She cried. Obviously she cried.

And then she slept wondering what on earth she was going to do tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resources
> 
> US:
> 
> National Confidential Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)
> 
> Check out RAINN for a master list of resources
> 
> UK:
> 
> Hotline: 0808 802 9999
> 
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 0808 2000 247
> 
> Check out UKSaysNoMore for master list of resources


	4. Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George senses something is up.

Ginny woke up, her throat dry as a desert. She looked around for her phone to check the time, before she remembered her phone was currently M.I.A. She thought for a moment before sheepishly getting out of bed to check her coat, she dug through the pockets to find the papers which she stuff backed in and grabbed on something hard and metal. “My phone was here the entire time?” she thought to herself. The events of last night were becoming more mysterious. It truly didn’t make sense that she had called Harry instead of Ron or really any number of people. Playing detective she looked at her recent calls. The two most recent calls were from Ron this morning and Lavender Brown last night. There were no outgoing calls from the night before, so how did she call Harry?

She inspected further to find texts from Lavender asking if she had gotten home alright. It was coming back to her that she was at the party with Lavender, who wanted dearly to show her what greek life was like. Ginny didn’t quite get the appeal, it seemed a particularly American thing. Ginny at least knew now she would be going to no more “frat parties.” Lav was nice enough but Ginny was glad she and Ron had called it off. Ginny quickly texted Lavender to let her know she was alive. And searched her contacts. 

“Harry Potter,” it read. She began a text to him. “Harry, thanks again, weird question, whose phone did I call from last night?” she sent and put her phone on the bedside table, “what next,” she thought. Though Ginny still felt awful, she decided she would rather keep her mind active than imagine each vivid possibility that existed in that black void of her memory. She stared at the door. It was closed. She knew it was closed, but what if it hadn’t clicked. The anxious whirr of her brain picked up the pace well-rested enough to run rampant again. She grabbed the doorknob and opened and closed the door- one - two - three - fou-

“Sending distress signals are we Ginny?” George came out from behind the door with a tired but sincere smile. It had been 3 years since Fred had passed, since Ginny had been the last to see him alive, since her generalized anxiety had morphed into obsessive compulsive disorder, since her father had converted and eventually had been ordained. A lot had happened, but it always had seemed Molly, Ginny, and George never fully recovered from the blow. Arthur, Percy, Bill, and Charlie, as different as they may be, had the same coping mechanism, they buried themselves in work. Ron seemed the only one who outwardly appeared normal, horrified by the loss but not broken. Ginny on occasion cursed him for his sanity, jealous of the normalcy he took for granted. 

Ginny looked up at George who had brought up chips and a sandwich from the local pub, “heard you got pretty hammered last night,” he said as he handed her the bag of food. 

“What did Ron tell you?” she asked, gauging what to say next. 

“That you’re sick from a long night, why?”

“You know what? Let’s go with that!”

“Ginny”

“No no no Georgey I’m done with the pitying and I know you understand. It is better that you don’t know.”

“You can’t just say that and expect me not to ask again. How about if I promise you a joke, no matter what it is that happened? That way you can be mad at me instead of me pitying you?”

“Fine”

George smiled at his baby sister who got him more than the others did. He and Fred had always had the most fun messing with Ginny who would fight back fiercely. Ron got on better with Bill and Charlie, but Ginny and George had become inseparable since Fred’s death, both failing to pretend they were remotely okay but resenting the attention of sympathy. Ginny  _ had  _ been getting better though. Her morse code tendencies of slamming doors and flipping light switches had gotten less frequent in the past few months. When George had heard the door, he knew something was up. 

Ginny methodically took her sandwich apart, examining the ingredients one by one before she began re-assembly, she stared at the bread and decided that food, in the general sense, was disgusting but a necessary evil. “I went to that frat party with Lav who was beside herself with joy because I was transferring and she wanted to show me the ropes or something,” she said in a monotone voice, “and it was fine at the beginning but, well, I don’t actually know what happened.”

George nodded, goading her to continue.

“Well it’s a big blur really, I remember flashes. I remember feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest in a bathroom upstairs, I remember Harry picking up the phone, and then he picked me up. I remember everything after that too, the hospital, the drive, all that.. but the dark bit...” she said holding her breath to brace herself for the part she didn’t want to share. 

“I only have images of what I can only suspect happened. I- the doctors found evidence of rape.”

George took a deep breath. It was so much worse than he’d imagined. His blood ran cold as he noticed the bruises around his sister’s neck. “Who have you told?”

“You and Harry.”   
  


“Ron doesn’t know?”

  
“Not all of it.”

“Ginny are you going to report this?”

Ginny looked at him, her eyes wild and desperate, “where’s my joke?”

“What, Ginny you can’t-”

“I want my joke!” her voice cracked.

Fred would have known what to say, George thought, or maybe even he would have if Fred was still around. As it stood, George was incomplete and only half as funny.

“What do you call a rich elf?”

Ginny took a bite of a chip, “what?”

“Welfy.”

Ginny started at George blankly, George had started snickering. He had the uncanny ability to make himself and everyone around him laugh at the stupidest shit. 

“Get it? Welfy!”

“Leave!!!!”

“But do you get it Ginny?”

Ginny was no longer looking at George. She hung her head down into her hands, her shoulders heaving up and down. 

Shit, he had made her cry. 

“Ginny, are you alright?”

She looked up at him, hands wet from tears, barely getting a breath in between cackles.”

“George-” she managed, diaphragm aching from laughing too hard, “George that is the-” she let out another giggle, “absolute most idiotic, horrible, stupid joke I’ve ever heard!”

George stood up and took a bow.

They giggled together for a few moments before silence retook the room. 

“Gin?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get a kit done?”

Ginny wasn’t particularly happy to return to their previous conversation, but she grunted an affirmative and waited. 

“And?”

Ginny sighed, “And nothing. They have that kit and it’s up to me to file a report. They filed something. I didn’t quite understand all of that, but if I want to get the police involved then I have to go to the police.”

  
“Are you planning on that?”

Ginny wasn’t yet sure. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to be involved in this mess, much less testify if it came to that. She wondered if an officer would have to speak at everyone who had been at the party. The thought made her nauseated, though it wouldn’t have taken much to make her stomach churn. “I don’t know yet, Georgey, I need time.” 

George thought about the last time he’d spoken to a police officer over three years ago. A man informing him of his brother’s death. He thought about the trial afterwards, how he wanted that man to rot in prison for what he’d done, for getting in that car. Three years had given him the presence of mind to rethink his urge for vengeance. He knew too well that hate consumes you, swallowing everything like pills with no water, leaving you hiccuping half sentiments trying to express the hurt you’ve hidden. The hurt that no amount of vengeance or justice could heal. He knew that Ginny was thinking the same thing. The emptiness they both felt when that man was convicted and sentenced. The understanding that it changed absolutely nothing, Fred was still gone. Still he offered, almost as a sick joke. 

“It may bring you closure.”   
  


“George, no it won’t. Maybe it would for some people but you  _ know  _ it won’t.”

George nodded.

“The only thing I’m thinking of is others. I don’t want to. Really I don’t want to speak to a cop again, like ever. I don’t want to be in a courtroom. I don’t want to see a jury.,” Ginny stopped abruptly catching herself shivering at the thought of 12 strangers contorting their faces, trying to imagine the tragedy they’d endured, trying to trace with their shocked faces the edges of the darkness that had consumed her family in those months. She’d had nightmares about their faces, jury members not laughing, but crying, seeming like a mockery to their grief nonetheless. “But,” she managed, “I think about other people. Other women who that man might do… this to” she gestured to the bruises on her neck. 

George knew she was right. While Ron and Percy, even his Mum and Dad may have gotten some closure from the sentencing. The whole thing seemed tragic to him, no matter who did or didn’t pay. The only thing that gave him hope was that somehow, this tragedy might save the life of someone else. “I don’t know what to tell you Ginny,” he managed, “I agree with you on everything and, I think, all I can say is there’s no  _ right  _ way to heal. So you do what you feel you need to and that’s all you  _ can  _ do.” George carefully approached her to give her a hug. Ginny nodded and he squeezed her tightly. “I know you’ll make the right decision, even if I don’t know what the right decision is,” he said softly. 

“Thanks George. It means a lot,” she pulled herself away, “could we possibly stop talking about it? At least for the rest of the day.”

George smiled and patted her head, “thank goodness, you know I’m not capable of being serious for more than 45 minutes, and I’d venture it’s been around 42, so clock was only ticking before I made some god awful joke again,” he said, feigning his typical care-free attitude. “Wanna watch something goofy and vaguely nostalgic.”

“Sounds good, dealer’s choice.”

As they watched some kitschy kids movie, Ginny’s phone buzzed. Harry. 

_ “I’m not sure, but it’s not your number.” _

Below the text, he had copied the number and sent it. She checked it with Lavender’s cell and they matched. 

“Well that’s one mystery solved,” she thought to herself. Ginny hoped Lav hadn’t and wouldn’t realize she had called Harry and not Ron. That would be hard to explain, given that Ginny had no recollection of making that decision. It was beginning to feel like she was a private investigator, except her subject was herself. Her phone buzzed again. 

_ Feeling alright? _

Harry again. Ginny felt a knot in her stomach. It was a perfectly reasonable question. In fact, it would have been weird had Harry not asked. And yet Ginny felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. Her own pride amused her at points. For a girl who was never ashamed of anything, who could never be embarrassed in the eyes of the world and all her friends, sympathy had always felt like a dagger. She decided to ignore her impulse not to respond and responded that she was fine but still felt sick. “That’s a normal thing to say, right?” she bemused. 

As she and George watched, Ginny wondered about tomorrows- the string of them that makes up a lifetime. She thought about how life just went on with or without you. She wondered about the tomorrows she had in store for her. Whether she’d tell mum or dad. If she would have to and how they would feel. She thought about how Ron would react. Or Luna for that matter. This was going to be a long break and she was off to a great start at school. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resources
> 
> US:
> 
> National Confidential Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)
> 
> Check out RAINN for a master list of resources
> 
> UK:
> 
> Hotline: 0808 802 9999
> 
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 0808 2000 247
> 
> Check out UKSaysNoMore for master list of resources


	5. Tomorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny handles the string of tomorrows that follow her assault. She finally confides in Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay! Grad School's been kicking my butt recently. Just as a heads up, this chapter deals with the diversity of responses to sexual assault. I want to drive home that there is no right way to heal when it comes to these things and you shouldn't feel pressured to take action you aren't comfortable with in these situations.

Tomorrows came and went.

Ginny couldn’t distinguish between the blur of days that followed that night. Instead, she remembered a sequence of actions. So quickly she had returned to the robotic state that had plagued her in the months following Fred’s death. It seemed almost like a video game: talk to person A who will give you Item 2. Use item 2 to talk to Person B. While the goals and objectives were less straightforward, Ginny decided that seeing the weeks that followed her assault this way kept her out of bed, which was a blessing in disguise. 

She first talked to Luna., who’d pried the story out of her when she’d “seemed off.” Ginny was impressed at her sharp eye given that she was always varying degrees of “off,” but Luna had known her since grade school when her mum sent an email to the parents of all of their classmates explaining that her daughter had Aspergers and needed special attention during play dates. Molly Weasley had taken up the call diligently, doing every bit of research for their first play date only to find out that Luna and Ginny would become best friends nearly instantly. When Molly had closed the door, Ginny opened it and closed it again twice.

“You’re weird,” Luny said to Ginny.

Molly looked uncomfortable.

“I know,” Ginny said defiantly.

Within seconds they both were on the floor laughing and that was all there was to it. They were the best of friends. When Ginny saw her two days after she immediately sensed it.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ginny said, “you’re reading into things.”

“I don’t read into anything actually. You know that,” she said, pressing on, “Something is wrong. What is it?”

“I was raped and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh”

“Yeah”

“Then we won’t talk about it.”

And that was it. Everyone assumes those on the spectrum can’t handle complex social situations. Sometimes Ginny thought it the other way around. Most people make situations complicated when they really don’t need to be. Sometimes “I don’t want to talk about it” can be just that. Ginny respected Luna because she knew how to comfort her in a way nobody else had, by treating her like she was still normal. They talked about university; how different their schools were but that both campuses seemed to have a penchant for suffering.

“It just seems like a competition as to who is the most stressed out,” Luna said of the fine arts students. Ginny agreed, acknowledging that the English students were the same. Ginny occasionally envied Luna- the way her path seemed so clear. She was the most incredible designer she’d ever met. Every outfit she wore perfectly toed the line between eccentric and groundbreaking. She was a whiz with a sewing machine. Ginny, on the other hand, more closely followed the jack of all trades trope. She was smart and she knew how to be a student. She knew how to be an athlete. She would probably end up as either a professor or a coach which she resented but accepted. So it goes.

That night Ginny and Luna drank crappy wine spritzers from her dad’s cooler in the garage and sat on her parents’ beautiful but messy porch. All sharp edges and clutter. Ginny could never tell how much money they had, they didn’t really talk about it much, but she assumed it was nothing to scoff at. Both of Luna’s parents came from money, old money. They never flaunted it, however. The two were a beautiful and eccentric couple with an equally beautiful and eccentric daughter. Luna’s features were jarring at first. People were never sure what to make of seeing someone with that mixture of features in real life. Her eyes were light blue and her hair was white blonde; long and wavy. Her mouth seemed in a perpetual pout, but she had the biggest smile when you had the privilege of making her laugh. Tiny and slight, but much stronger than she appeared, Luna had always looked closer to a ghost or a sprite than an actual human being. She was the image of her mother apart from her striking long Roman nose that seemed to come from her father. 

Luna only broke their pact not to speak about the incident once.

“Are you going to go to the authorities?”

“Luna, I don’t know yet,” Ginny sighed. 

“He could do it again.” Luna said in her soft, pensive voice. 

“Yes, I know he could. But, Luna, I’m tired. I don’t want anybody to know and if I press charges, they’re going to have to investigate.”

“Pardon, but that sounds almost a little selfish” Luna said looking off past Ginny’s shocked face. The lack of filter usually never came between the two but Ginny was hurt. “You’re not a selfish person, Ginny.” 

Ginny’s nostrils flared, “Luna, I’m not the one who raped someone, why is it my responsibility?” Ginny felt herself get hot and started to unconsciously pick at the skin around her nails. The compulsions were getting worse, way worse. Ron had been right. The more she gave into them the more popped up, seemingly out of nowhere. First doors, then lights, then food, until finally she had to mess with her own body that seemed perpetually as though it had been put back together wrong. 

Luna looked surprised, realizing she must have hurt Ginny’s feelings. “Selfishness isn’t always a character flaw. Sometimes we need to be selfish. You always do what’s best for others.”

They were silent for a few minutes and Luna scooted over to Ginny and began braiding her long red hair. Luna was fascinated by hair, the feel of it. Her’s was long enough to graze her waist specifically for this reason. She had always loved putting it in intricate braids or updos. Ginny could never be bothered to do anything other than brush hers but found that she enjoyed when Luna played with it. There was something deeply calming about feeling the soft tugs against her scalp. Ever since they were in middle school, when tensions got high between them, Luna would start to braid Ginny’s hair. 

Ginny took a deep breath, realizing that Luna was right. It was selfish not to say anything, but that didn’t make it wrong.

“It isn’t your responsibility to take this on, but will you feel bad if you don’t? Like I said, you’re not a person who usually does things for yourself” Luna asked, searching her dress pockets for a hair tie.

Ginny thought for a while about this. She wasn’t sure how she would feel if she decided not to do anything. “I guess I’ll just have to find out.”

After that, the two didn’t speak of it anymore. Ginny would have to come to her own conclusions as to whether or not she was going to press charges. When she left the Lovegood house the next morning, she had made it a conviction to take however long she needed on figuring this out. 

~~~~

One tomorrow was spent at a coffee shop. Ginny had asked Harry out for coffee to give him back his clothes and thank him for everything he’d done. She was expecting the meeting to be short and painless, but when he’d gotten there, she felt the same nervous energy she had felt that morning after when he had texted her. She rambled for almost 40 minutes about Rugby to overcompensate for her nerves, not wanting him to believe she was still coping with the trauma of the assault. Harry nodded along and let her, sensing her nervousness. He welcomed the distraction from everything else going on in his life at the moment. 

The butterflies, or possibly hornets, in Ginny’s stomach evaporated after about an hour and the two fell into more natural conversation. Ginny had never realized it before, but they were similar. Beyond their love of Rugby, Ginny had learned about their shared interest in Political Science, something she rarely advertised. 

“I just feel like a majority of Poli Sci majors don’t actually study Poli Sci,” she had ranted.

“Why because they only rely on numbers to understand a subject that, at its heart, is about people?”

“Exactly!”

Beyond their shared interests, she just found it easy to talk to him. It was shocking, to her, that it had taken her this long to realize they enjoyed each other’s company. Harry had so many amazing stories about his parents, who had died when he was just a kid, but had worked in International Aid, traveling the world. By the time Ginny was ready to go home, they had been talking for nearly three hours.

Harry offered to drive her back to her house so Ginny wouldn’t have to take the Bus in the evening. She’d accepted the offer and climbed into the passenger’s side. She closed the door only once. 

On the way back, Ginny had thought again about that night. She almost felt guilty, now, for accepting Harry’s offer to drive her home, accepting more help from a guy she had already asked so much of. She felt her fingers tingle and grow numb as her pulse began to rise again. Her thoughts began to spiral. “How typical,” she thought of herself, “to overthink myself into a stupor after a nice day.” Still, she could barely feel her hands. To distract herself, she looked out the window, realizing they were passing the local police station. “Harry?” She asked.

“Yeah?”

“If… well if you were me, would you report it?”

Harry was surprised, “I can’t say” he admitted, “I mean I’ve never been in that situation.” Harry mused at the question, in all honesty he’d probably keep quiet. He’d never told anyone about how his aunt and uncle treated him, “but it’s personal. Does justice matter more than your own mental health? Would it help?”

The numbness in Ginny’s hand was creeping up towards her wrists. As nonchalantly as possible she tried to tap them against the car to regain their feeling, hoping her neuroses weren’t completely evident. “It wouldn’t but I don’t want it to happen to someone else either. I could never forgive myself.”

“Then I would say yes. You should report it.” Harry replied glancing over to see the source of the tapping before returning his eyes to the road, “I could take you,” he offered.

“Harry you’ve done so much already for me it’s fine.”

“Really it’s not trouble-“

The tingling sensation in her hands traveled up to her wrists. Ginny continued to try to ignore the feeling. “Okay,” she arrived at, “better to get it over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resources
> 
> US:
> 
> National Confidential Hotline: 800-656-HOPE (4673)
> 
> Check out RAINN for a master list of resources
> 
> UK:
> 
> Hotline: 0808 802 9999
> 
> Domestic Abuse Hotline: 0808 2000 247
> 
> Check out UKSaysNoMore for master list of resources


End file.
